Isla’s POV
The car pulled into the estate, the familiar gates looming like silent sentinels. Sienna’s parents stepped out first, their arms wrapped around her gently, murmuring comfort I couldn’t hear over the pounding in my own chest. She leaned into them like a fragile porcelain doll, small in stature but fierce in spirit. For a brief moment, I envied her calmness. Calm before the storm, I thought bitterly.
Zayne’s car stopped behind them, the engine quieting. We stepped out—me sandwiched between Rico and Zayne, the tension between the two men unspoken but sharp as a knife. Our shoes clicked against the cobblestone as we headed inside, the house smelling faintly of polished wood and lingering incense.
Sienna barely looked up when she was ushered into her room and we followed. Aurora,
